


A Heavy Price

by MissEmmanuelle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Jonsa, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, I Tried, Not Canon Compliant, Reunion, anon prompts, i don't know what canon compliant means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:39:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissEmmanuelle/pseuds/MissEmmanuelle
Summary: (Mix of timelines) Sansa is forced to marry Tyrion and Jon comes to King’s Landing seeking aid for his quest to fight against the White Walkers, after waking up from the dead and realising that this is his one and only mission, at his second chance of life. But is he willing to pay a heavy price for it? Perhaps. Even in ways he never imagined.





	A Heavy Price

**Author's Note:**

> Anon ask prompt for jonsa-creatives on Tumblr. Done ala GRRM style (lol as if)
> 
> Prompt. "How is Sansa?" Tyrion asked. Jon suddenly stops. "She's different."
> 
> Also written for 31 Days of Jonsa Challenge: Day 17 -Betrayal
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Elle xxx (jonsaforlife/jonsa-creatives on Tumblr - come say hi!)

**_Tyrion_ **

Nothing much was exchanged between them, save for light banter from Lord Tyrion Lannister and Sansa could only offer a small smile in acknowledgement. Tyrion appreciated her gesture, knowing full well how terrible how all of it was. A young girl forced into marriage, to a man with no business being her husband. He had no intention nor interest in marrying her, he was doing very well having his days spent at a brothel. More than enough for a man his stature. But yet, no one dare defied Tywin Lannister. Hand of the King, only second to the most powerful man in all of Westeros. And here he was, in his chamber well prepared for a newlyweds welcome. 

Tyrion looked around him again and felt his head throb. Normally, he would look forward in going to bed, with a young woman in tow, ready to do his bidding. But of course, those young women came at a pretty price, and he paid for their services as requested. But standing before him, wasn’t just any young whore. Although, she was looked upon as such, in the eyes of his sister, Cersei - Sansa was just a scared little girl to him. Beautiful, sweet, kind and far too young for his liking, Tyrion could only feel sympathy for the poor turn of events.  _The gods are wicked_ , he thought.

Tyrion sauntered to the table where the wine stood, pouring a full glass and hoping there would be enough to numb his senses, or at least for a restful sleep that night. Perhaps, Sansa would like the same.

“Wine, my lady?”

Sansa shook at his voice in the midst of silence in the room. The tension was palpable and stifling. She only smiled back shyly at him and poured herself a glass. Tyrion watched as she drank almost three quarters of it in one gulp. _Damn you Father_ , he whispered under his breath.

Sansa placed the glass gently back on the tray and stepped towards the bed. There was no other way to get out of this and she knew well what her wifely duties entailed. She swallowed and slowly unlaced her dress. Even though heavy and scratching at her skin, she did not wish to remove it at all.

“Sansa. Sansa, please stop. Look at me,” Tyrion suddenly called out to her. His eyes were weary but kind and for the first time, she saw him as a man and not the Imp.

“Do you prefer that I keep them on, my Lord?”

Tyrion closed his eyes and sighed deeply.  _Yes, leave them on, child._

“How old are you?”

“I just turned eighteen, my Lord.”

Tyrion cursed under his breath and set down his glass of wine, shaking his head.

“Stop. I can’t… I could but I… I won’t share your bed. Not until you want me to,” he said, his eyes on Sansa who was still fully dressed.

Sansa looked away and sat down on the bed, relieved. “What if I never want you to?”

Tyrion only smiled, his heart grieving as he looked upon this young girl - a traitor’s daughter, punished unjustly for her father’s sins. He took up the glass again. “And so my watch begins.” 

_There would be no bedding tonight. I may be a sinner but I would not sin against a child._

“What’s gotten into you? All of sudden your cock doesn’t work?” hollered a voice he hated to hear during his time of solitude in the library. “Father, good morning to you too.”

“What I do with my cock is none of your business, my Lord hand,” Tyrion added nonchalantly.

“It is when I expect a heir by next moon. Put a child in that Stark girl and be done with it.”

Tyrion bristled at the command.

“She is not a mare to be bred. She is a highborn lady of house Stark!”

“And our only way to command the North! Are you the Hand or am I? Do as I say Tyrion or do you need a whore to help things along?” Tywin hissed. There was no use arguing when all his father ever saw in him was a pawn to be used. Tyrion realised then that he had as much value as Sansa, in his own father’s eyes. Another piece to be played in the world of politics of Westeros.

“I will not repeat myself again. Bed her or you will cease to call yourself a Lannister!”

Tyrion watched as his father stormed out, leaving a wake of hate and rage bubbling in him.

**_Jon_ **

It was warmth he sought and warm it was as he set foot on the shores of King’s Landing. Edd had been a brother to him but he did not understand why he needed to leave. After all that has happened, it was the very thing he needed to do.

“What is that stench?” Jon covered his nose as soon as he reached the busy harbour, bustling with hundreds of townsfolk.

“King’s Landing, m'lord. The air putrid as the vile scum that lives here,” Ser Davos scoffed, looking around him. The scent was familiar though the memories were such he wished to forget. He had lost two sons during the Battle of Blackwater. The pain wouldn’t leave him so easily. But he had a more important mission now, to seek help for the doom that was coming. He prayed that Jon, the resurrected warrior, would be the answer. And he would do whatever Jon asked, even if it meant risking his life again.

“Do you think this was a poor idea?”

Ser Davos looked up from his plate. Jon’s worried eyes darted back and forth around the dim tavern they had planned to spend the night.

“Well, if you don’t try, you will never know.”

“My father was killed here, this is not a place that makes me comfortable, Ser Davos.”

“And yet, you have nowhere else to go, son. Your home in Winterfell is overrun with Bolton scum, you’ve ended your watch at Castle Black and now you need help to fight the white walkers. Now, I think seeking help is a fine idea. Just try not to get caught by any of the Lannisters, Snow.”

Jon sighed and rubbed his face in exhaustion. Indeed, Davos was right. There was no time to waste. If anyone who could listen, maybe Tyrion would. As long as the Imp remembered their brief friendship during his visit to Castle Black once many years ago.

Davos stabbed at the hard cheese and stale bread that came with his ale. Perhaps it was better to go to bed on an empty stomach. Then, without warning, a sudden strong nudge pushed Davos, almost knocking him off his seat and enough for him to seize his sword, as a girl in a dirty cloak sat at the table with them.

“Miss! Wha-”

A piece of torn parchment was tossed into his plate and before the both of them could grab hold of the young lady, she was gone. Davos stared at the tattered scroll and looked at Jon.

“Meet me by the tunnel gates when all of the world has gone to sleep. I know who you are, Jon Snow. I will be waiting,” Jon opened the scroll and read quietly. This wasn’t a good sign at all. “Who else knows of your coming here?”

“I swear to the gods, I haven’t told a soul.”

**_Sansa_ **

She had been a wife for almost a month now and she had never felt more alone. She had refused many invitations to dine with the Tyrells, citing her being unwell and soon enough they stopped calling. Once again, her hopes and dreams of leaving the prison that was the Red Keep turned to dust as she watched Lord Baelish’s ship sail away into the horizon. The garden was her only respite and sanctuary now, a place where no one would pay any attention to her, save for Shae.

_If only the gods hear my prayers, of how I want to leave this place. Please, let me. I’ll do anything. Anything._

Sansa wished someone would take her away, anyone, who was brave enough to break into the castle and steal her away. She hardly believed in stories now. All she wanted was to be with her family again. Why was that too much too ask.

“Do you wish to return to your chambers, my Lady?”

“No, Shae. Let me sit here a while longer. No one is waiting for my return back at the castle. Nobody cares. I’d rather be here.”

“No, my Lady, I’m sure… I’m sure Lord Tyrion will be waiting for you.”

Sansa stared at her handmaid, a look as empty as the large void inside of her that was growing.

“How do you sleep at night knowing that it is I who sleeps next to him, Shae?”

“Well… It isn’t my place to say anything, my Lady. He is your husband after all.”

“But you love him, don’t you? And he goes to your bed at night?”

Shae only looked down, feeling quite sorry. Yes, she loved Tyrion and she knew about their marriage arrangement. But she wasn’t feeling sorry about taking Tyrion away from her.

Sansa sighed and turned her attention again towards the sea. “I wish I knew what loving someone felt like. And how it feels to be loved back.”

**_Jon_ **

Jon made sure his grip never left the hilt of his sword. The night was warm, humid and quiet as the whole city had gone to sleep. Davos paced back and forth, stopping to look out for any figures approaching them. With only a small lamp, it was hard to see who was coming or going.

“Yes, this was a poor idea.”

Davos placed a finger on his lips as the sound of muffled footsteps drew closer and closer towards them. Jon slowly drew his sword, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Whoever this person was, had known about his visit to King’s Landing.  _Impossible._

“You can put that sword away, Lord Commander,” a soft spoken voice greeted as a cloaked figure stood before them.

“Who are you? Show yourself,” Jon ordered as he pointed the sword at it.

“Is that how you greet new friends? Lord Varys at your service, please to make your acquaintance.”

Jon stared at the bald headed man, dressed in fine silks smiling cunningly at him and Davos. “Lord Varys? Aren’t you-”

“On the Small Council? Yes I am. Though perhaps not for long if I’m found here talking to you.”

“Why did you ask for me? How did you know I was here? I have nothing to offer you.”

“Ah, I have eyes all over the city. Nobody goes in or out without my knowing, my Lord. Besides, a man in a Northern cloak bearing the sigil of a direwolf does not go unnoticed so easily. But yes, perhaps you have nothing for me. But I may have something for you.”

“No. I know these things come with a price. I am here to seek an audience that is all. Whatever risks it brings, I am ready to  face it. A great war is coming and if we don’t fight, we are doomed.”

“Ah, wars. What else is new? My.. You do have your father’s bearing. Ned Stark was an honourable man. I am sorry for your loss, Lord Commander.”

“I did not come here for my father. Now speak of what you wish and be done with it!”

Lord Varys nodded and sat down on a stone step.

“Your sister’s alive. Well, at least one of them. If you’re here, this would be of interest to you, I’m sure.”

Jon frowned at the thought.  _Sister? Arya?_

“Arya’s alive?”

“Oh I don’t know about her. The other one, Lady Sansa.”

Jon looked at Davos and back to Varys, joining him at the steps.

“Sansa.. she’s alive?”

“Yes, my Lord. But I’ll have you know, she is Lady Lannister now. Wife of Lord Tyrion.”

Jon almost dropped his sword at the mention.  _They made her… That can’t be. Sansa.._

“Oh was that who you wished to speak to? Lord Tyrion?” Varys asked, noticing how Jon flinched at the name.

Jon kept silent. Inside however, he wanted to scream, outraged at the monsters that kept Sansa prisoner. His body trembled with rage.

“I can help you with that, if you’d like.”

Jon sensed there was more to the offer.

“Out with it. What are the terms of that meeting?” Jon growled, his knuckles pale as they tightly curled into a fist.

Lord Varys smiled and stood up, facing Jon as he followed.

“Kill the king.”

**_Tyrion_ **

It was another warm humid night and a sleepless one, as Tyrion sat by the window and gazed at the starless sky. A rustle of linens made him look away as Sansa tossed and turned in bed for the fifth time that night. She had a slight cold that gave way to a fever and Maester Pycelle had prescribed a heady concoction of milk of the poppy and  several herbs to help ease the ailment. Tyrion hoped that Sansa would feel better soon though her health would vastly improve if she had any appetite. 

Tyrion sighed; things between them were getting more tense as Sansa often withdrew herself from everyone except Shae. The Red Keep was killing her slowly, that he was certain. But he was just as helpless as she was. Trapped like her. 

He sipped the last of his wine when a gentle tapping was heard on the door. It was quite late and he was sure Shae had already retired for the night, after their frantic love making a few hours ago. Tyrion stepped towards the door and opened it slightly to see who it was seeking him at this time of night. To his surprise, the guards were no longer standing, but slumped in a corner deep in slumber. Tyrion opened the door wider only to be pushed back hastily inside his chambers. “What is the meaning-”

“Hush, my Lord. Please be as quiet as you can.”

“Varys! What in the gods’ name are you doing?”

Lord Varys greeted him with a slight bow and motioned for him to sit down.

“This cannot wait and there is a matter of great importance, my Lord.”

Tyrion glanced at Sansa who was still sleeping soundly, thankfully.

“Well, what is it? This isn’t exactly a good time, Lord Varys.”

Varys stepped aside and opened the door wider as if to let someone in. Tyrion wished he had a dagger with him and regretted that he had left it with Shae instead, for her safety.

“There is someone whom I think you would like to meet.”

Tyrion watched as a figure cloaked in black entered, and almost dropped his cup as he saw the small glimmer of a steel forged direwolf clasp.  _The ghost of Ned Stark_ , he thought. But the face was framed by dark curly hair neatly bound in a bun, with steely grey eyes staring right back at him.

_Jon. Jon Snow._

**_Jon_ **

Davos truly lived up to his name as a smuggler, as the old man led them up to a hidden stairwell under an old bridge just beneath the Red Keep.

“The Targaryens had built the Red Keep and I’ve been here long enough to know its hidden cracks and corners,” Davos explained as he pointed to the steel gate with rusty locks. Knocking down the locks, the gates opened easily as it creaked and groaned from years of unuse. “Head West and then East, he says you will find a doorway with a torch. You will meet him then. May the gods be with you Jon Snow. And see you on the other side.”

Jon nodded and took the lamp as he headed upstairs to meet his fate, whatever it was that was waiting for him; he was ready.

True enough and to his relief, Varys was  waiting for him at the doorway as promised and led him to a well lit corridor. Jon looked around him and saw guards sprawled on the floor to his left and right.

“Do not worry. They will awake in the morning. Which means you have to hurry before the sun rises,” Varys whispered.

It seemed like hours and Jon could feel his heart thumping wildly as he heard Tyrion’s voice coming from the chambers inches away from where he was standing. As the door widened, Varys nodded for him to enter. Jon realised that up till that moment, he hoped that this was the best choice he made in his entire life.

**_Tyrion_ **

“Jon Snow?”

“Lord Tyrion. I am sorry to disturb you at such a time-”

Tyrion only grabbed his hand to give it a firm shake. He wasn’t sure why he was ecstatic to see the young man again but he was.

“My, my! How long has it been, Lord Snow? The bastard of Winterfell,” Tyrion greeted him, beaming at the surprise.

A small groan, followed by soft heavy breathing made Jon turn his head.  _No, it couldn’t be.._

“Is that… Sansa?” Jon released Tyrion’s hand and slowly approached the bed. He froze halfway remembering suddenly that Tyrion was in the same chambers as she was - as her husband.

“So it is true. They made her marry a Lannister,” Jon growled as he turned back to Tyrion.

The bright grey eyes that greeted him moments ago suddenly turned dark as Tyrion watch Jon draw near. “My Lord, it was a sham marriage. I swear, I did not touch her. Unconsummated. I swear, my Lord.”

Jon paused at the confession. “I didn’t ask.”

“Well, now..  now you know. If you have come to save your sister-”

“Half sister.”

Tyrion nodded.  _Once a bastard, always a bastard_. “I release her to you. But I have a feeling there’s more to this meeting than just family ties.”

Jon glanced at Varys who gave a slight nod.

“Well, you’re right Lord Tyrion. And indeed it is about family,” Varys agreed.

Tyrion watched both Jon and Varys as they shifted in their stance. Whatever it was, they needed his help. And he hoped  with all his heart that it had something to do with ending the reign of a certain King.

“Looks like I need wine for this. Would you like some?”

**_Sansa_ **

The snow melted in her hair and Sansa stuck out her tongue, to taste the snowflakes, like she often did as a child. It was an absolute delight seeing Winterfell in its wintery glory, its pristine beauty dotted with snow capped hills and lush green rolling down in wondrous contrast. She heard familiar voices calling out to her, laughter and giggles surrounding her as she made her way to the gates of her beloved home. It opened wide and Sansa skipped in as she entered, greeted by familiar sights within an arm’s reach. But there was no one there. Not a soul in sight. But it was bustling, familiar noises kept ringing in her ears. 

 _Where are  they?_  Sansa stayed still and soon the voices called out to her again, calling her name and she followed. Her feet felt heavy even though she was walking a clear path and tried her best to run towards the sound of the voices.

“Wait… Wait for me,” Sansa panted as she hurried down the crypt.

It was dark but Sansa could make out a small path in front of her as candles lit her way. Cautiously she walked and looked at the large stone carved figures standing grimly  as she came near. Their faces were so much like her family. There was one of Aunt Lyanna and one that looked like her grandfather. The voices were now a hushed whisper as she moved along to the next tomb. She peered at it, seeing how his features were so familiar. Sansa jumped back as she recognised who it was. Frantically, she moved to the next tomb and to the next..  _Father… Robb.. Rickon._  And one that made her heart stop.  _Mother.._

Suddenly, a dark winged bird like creature flapped its wings and flew over her head. Sansa screamed but there was no sound, only silence.

**_Jon_ **

“And you’ve seen this.. these white walkers yourself?”

Jon only nodded.

“Aye. Fought them at Hardhome. We lost.”

Tyrion shut his eyes and rested his head in his hands, trying to make sense of it all. He wasn’t sure if Jon had come to the right person at all.

“Jon, I’m not entirely sure if I can help you. I don’t know how.”

“I am not sure how either but we’ve got to try. If we don’t fight this, there will be nothing left except for death and no kings will be left standing,” Jon continued. Tyrion raised his eyebrows at the thought.

“Maybe having no king is a good thing.”

Jon raised his hands, exasperated.  _Why does everyone think this is a joke?_

“You don’t understand! Everything, everyone will be slaves to the night king! Eternal damnation and death! You want that so you don’t have to kneel to your king?” Jon hollered, his voice getting louder and louder. Tyrion hushed him as Sansa shifted restlessly in bed again.

“I… I need to think about this. About a plan. And I can’t do it here,” Tyrion looked around him and grabbed his robe. Jon stood up to follow.

“No, stay here. It’s safer, at least before the sun comes up. No one ever comes here except for the maids and guards. Besides don’t you want to see Sansa? Look after her for me? Make sure she is safe.”

Jon glanced at the bed once more and nodded. Sansa was the only family he had now.

“Jon, lock the door and don’t open till  you hear four loud knocks. It will be me.” Tyrion gave a nod and Jon watched as took his leave, closing the door shut behind him.

**_Jon & Sansa_ **

It was surreal, having to watch Sansa in her sleep as Jon sat on the bed close to her. They had never been close growing up and Jon rarely saw her as a sister. More like a pretty lady with hair kissed by fire. Jon leaned closer and laid his head on the pillow next to hers. She looked so peaceful even though he knew she was suffering being held against her will. Jon was only grateful that it was Tyrion she was married to and Tyrion had been kind enough in preserving her dignity. Sansa stirred as she felt soft warm breaths billowing on her face. It did not reek of ale or sour wine like Tyrion usually did. Instead it was a comforting scent of musky leather, the kind that Father, Jory Cassel and knights of Winterfell would wear. She knew that scent even in her sleep. Her dream, was coming true, and Sansa’s eyes fluttered open.

Wide grey eyes stared right back at hers and Sansa gasped, at the sight. Indeed it was a miracle..

“Jon?”

“Sansa… You’re alive.”

Sansa sat up and leapt onto him, peeling off the sheets covering her. Sansa kissed his cheek and his warmth soothed her soul. He was real and not a dream at all. 

“Oh, Jon! You’re here… You came for me!” Sansa cried as her arms clung on to him tightly, refusing to let go.

Jon nuzzled into the crook of her neck.  _Sansa._   _Sansa Stark._

“Yes, yes I did,” he whispered as he stroked her soft copper locks.

Sansa could hardly believe the gods had chosen to finally answer her. All she wanted to do was hug and kiss him. It was peculiar of her wanting to do such things but relief and happiness had washed over her in great waves and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Sansa finally released her grip and pressed her forehead against his, fighting hard to stop the tears from coming.

“I want to go home, Jon. Are you going to take me home with you? Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, cupping his face.

“I will, we will. We’ll go home, Sansa. We’ll take it back.”

Sansa nodded and as their noses touched, something came over her. Sansa felt herself drawn towards him; in the euphoria of it all, their lips grazed and their eyes met.

For once she felt loved and secure in someone’s arms, a feeling she never thought would come and from one she never thought would provide her such comfort.

Sansa closed her eyes as her lips crashed onto Jon’s, her body welcoming his, willingly and without restraints. Whatever lines they have crossed was nothing compared to the joy they both were feeling.

Their gentle kisses soon became frantic and hungry as Jon devoured her lips, slowly and gently laying her  back down again. His lips found the soft skin of her neck and Sansa let out a small whimper which only encouraged Jon further. He could not stop and he would burn in hell for what he was doing to Sansa but he died once and hell was just a big black nothing.

Her thin and sheer night shift only made it easier for him, to reach into parts even Sansa herself never dared and Jon ran his tongue over her swollen teats. Her skin was burning to the touch and her writhing only made him hard as a rod. Jon removed his doublet, with one hand, while the other swiftly unlaced Sansa’s shift, he froze as a fully naked Sansa in all her glory greeted him as he hovered over her. Her eyes were closed and her hands were reaching out to hold him and Jon had never seen such beauty in all of his life.

“Come to me, Jon. Come to me,” Sansa pleaded hazily as she pulled his face to hers and they kissed once more, deep and slow, their tongues mingling.

Jon could not help but wonder how Sansa tasted like and took no time in making his way further down her lithe body, peppering kisses all over her stomach, hips and the inside of her thighs. Sansa bucked her hips as a curious but powerful sensation washed over her as Jon’s mouth and tongue caressed parts of her she never knew. The inside of her thighs were now slick with anticipation and there was an ache that was growing deep in her belly and it kept growing the more Jon’s mouth nipped and licked at every inch of her.

“Sansa… I… I want you, so much… but I know this is….wrong. But if you want me to..”

Sansa moaned as his fingers took over as he crept up and whispered in her ears.

“Then take me.. take me, Jon. Take me home.  _You_  are my home now,” Sansa panted as she pulled him close once more. Jon took off his tunic and whatever else that stood in between his bare skin and hers, staring dreamily at the wonder before him.

Slowly, he pressed on, careful and always watching Sansa as he moved past her delicate warm folds, hissing at the glorious pleasure that engulfed him.

“Move with me,” Jon gently instructed and soon they found a rhythm of their own. Sansa’s soft whimpers drifted in and out of his ears and Jon only pushed on further. He felt her growing warmer and the more he moved, the more her walls clung onto him. He was so close. Close to emptying himself in her, as he felt the spasming unleashed on him and Sansa quivering underneath. It did not take long however, for his own peak to rise as Sansa raised her head to meet his and another kiss finally released the flood into her. Jon shuddered as he lifted himself slowly off her and laid by her side. 

_What have I done.._

**_Tyrion_ **

The plan would work but he would need reinforcements. And right now he was not able to think of any. No kingdom, no house in their right mind would dare betray the King and commit treason. If they were found to be complicit, it would mark the end of it all. Tyrion closed the book and headed out of the library. Sunrise was upon them soon and he’d best warn Jon to make for a quick exit.

Tyrion stepped over the sleeping guard to knock on the door of his chambers. Four solid knocks, as he promised. Tyrion waited. And waited, wondering if Jon was still there.

As Tyrion almost called out to him, the door finally unlocked and opened. Jon stood before him, flushed and sweaty with his clothes hastily put on. Tyrion glanced at him, taking note of the curls straying wildly from his bun. Sansa was still in bed and fast asleep. The medicine proved to be quite powerful.

“I have a plan. It may or may not work but it needs time. How much time do we have?”

Jon ran his hand through his hair and Tyrion noticed his slightly swollen lips. He glanced at Sansa again, who had her covers tucked up to her neck.  _Something happened here,_ he noticed.

“Not much time, my Lord. But whatever it takes as long as I have your word that you will help me.”

Tyrion nodded. “You have my word, my Lord.”

Jon gave a small smile and headed towards the door. He hated to leave but he had to, for both their safety. He promised that he would return to her as soon as he could.

“Jon?  **How is Sansa**? I hope you can see that I’ve tried my best to make sure she is well taken care of here,” Tyrion asked, causing Jon to pause in his step.

Swallowing a sharp breath of air, Jon only smiled again and turned his head towards the bed.

“She..  **she is different**. I wish to take her back home with me, soon my Lord, once we have everything sorted. I hope that is all right with you.”

Tyrion watched Jon who stood reluctantly by the door, his dreamy gaze not leaving his half sister who was laying ill in bed. It was a look Tyrion was far too familiar with. One shared between Cersei and Jamie.

“Well as I promised you, Jon Snow,” Tyrion held out his hand to him.

“She’s all yours.”


End file.
